It turned out that the threats of eye witnesses placing me at the scene were only that, threats, and so the whole thing eventually got dropped. In the process I’d made a friend, whom I’d later discovered was a legitimate genius. Go figure.
“Walter, I’m into something heavy, and I have partners in this venture as well. I have to ask you to do some heavy snooping for me, and I don’t have much in the way of specifics. We’ll have to go on gut-feel and raw suspicion.” I sighed, knowing what was coming next.
“Jeff, never mind what you think you know or don’t know, throw away that tired old gut-feel stuff. Everything is data. Data is all. Specific data can be harder to find than general data, but it all comes down to the same thing; bits, nibbles, and bytes. Tell me what you need.” At this point, Walter usually got serious. Business was business, after all. I would tell him what I needed, and he would price the info according to the difficulty level associated with the acquisition of the data. I started in on what I knew. It took about fifteen minutes to fill him in, because he threw in questions every two minutes.
“That’s what I do know. What I don’t know becomes the obvious request I had for you. So, can you help? It’s not General Electric we’re playing with this time.”
In the end, what I wanted was vague, and directionally weak, but Walter rose to the challenge, as always.
“Think no more about it my good man, this task you have set for me is as good as done.”
“Your W.C. Fields impression is terrible, hasn’t anyone told you that before this?”
“Being cruel won’t advance your cause, but actually, yes, I have been spoken to about that particular impression, so I won’t hold it against you. I’ll get in touch by this time tomorrow, or check earlier on the net. I’ll leave an e-mail message for you in your inbox. Usual encryption key?”
“Yeah, thanks Walter, that’s fine, I appreciate it.”
“Thank me after you get my bill, buckaroo. This one might not be cheap. Signing off.” He hung up the phone. Typical. Now I’d have to wait, but I didn’t think I’d wait long. There was enough cross-reference in this to nail down some possibles, even if we weren’t sure about exactly what to look for. That was Walter’s job now. He’d always come through in the past, and I had no doubts he’d come through this time too. Godsen had an entire department dedicated to this sort of thing if I was to believe everything she told me. That was one part of her story that I did believe. How good these people were was another issue entirely. Hence, the call to Walter.
I’d already had my shower and shave. I was dressed in casual grey-flannel slacks, black socks with burgundy loafers, Italian, that had small studs of rubber laid over the leather sole. I could run fairly well in them all things considered. My white shirt and tie were subdued with a button-down collar and a grey-blue wash for the background on the tie, with a random slash of red, as if from an artist’s brush. The mini-mic was in place underneath the tie. The ear-piece wireless receiver was also in place. I had stood in front of the full length mirror for about ten minutes judging the result and, in the end, I decided that the only way anyone would notice it was if they were standing directly to my left and checking out my profile. Even then it would be taken for a hearing aid and nothing more. The transceiver was built to resemble a lighter which could be clipped onto anything, basically. I had clipped mine onto the inside of my jacket handkerchief pocket, where it was virtually invisible. Therese’s’ gear was still on the coffee table. Time for one more call, this one to George, who was still in my bad books for not clueing me in six months back, when he’d first gotten involved with these people.
The number for Beirut was a long time in switching through the various routes that ended at the phone he’d given me. Probably went by way of Greenland, with a satellite or two in the mix for good measure. The rings started eventually, and the front desk of the Hilton answered. I guess they had built a new one, because I knew for a fact that the old one had needed serious bracing on the oceanside wall just to stay standing. The desk clerk was fluent in French, so I didn’t have to troop out my Arabic, which was rusty as hell. He put me through to George’s room immediately. He picked up after about four rings. Still in dreamland.
“Hello, Belnor here.”
I laid it on a bit thick, still being pissed and all.
“Well good morning George. And how was your flight? Gotten out to see any of the tourist stops yet? Lovely town, hmm?”
“Alright Jeff, cut it out.” I could hear him coming wide awake from his voice. I don’t know how he does that, I never could. Except when I had to, or suffer the consequences.
“Okay. You alright?”
“Yeah, fine. You were right about this town though. It ain’t no picnic, that’s for sure. At least the hotel’s nice.”
“That’s because they just finished building it. The last one got blown up one piece at a time until it couldn’t stand up anymore. Have you made any contacts yet?”
“Well, sort of. I’ve been through two levels of contacts already, and later today I get to meet the man who knows the man I want to meet. I think they’re all related somehow, anyway, and it’s costing me a fortune. I never knew Beirut was as expensive as Tokyo.”
“It’s not, by the way, and the people you’re dealing with are probably all cousins of one kind or another. What line are you taking for your story?”
“What do you mean, my story?”
“I mean are you paying these guys to lead you to the one you want, and keeping the whole thing hush-hush, or are you letting them know what it’s about, and spreading as little cash around as possible? That kind of thing.”
“A bit of both, I suppose. It’s the first time I’m dealing with people whose language I don’t understand. They talk a lot in front of me, but I don’t know what’s going on yet. Mind you, I just got here. If I can get through to this Hamad Al Rashid today, I can be out of here on the midnight flight to Paris tonight.” The bells were going off like crazy.
“George, listen carefully, did you say Al Rashid?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“What’s the connection with Al Rashid to this case?” I could tell George was getting edgy. He does that when he doesn’t get his beauty sleep.
“He’s supposed to be the grand old man of the family. This family lost two of their young sons in one of the bank jobs. The second one, in Paris. It’s not totally clear whether they were involved, and were considered expendable, or whether they just were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I might be able to find out if I get to speak with this Hamad guy. He’s the grandfather of the two victims.” I was trying desperately to put all of this in place while we talked.
“Are you letting them know that you’re a cop, and are you carrying your badge and gun?”
“Sure, I have authorization, and it gives me some leverage for getting back at the killers when I meet with the old man. Revenge and all, you know how it goes.”
“Yeah, I do. The trouble is, you don’t. You’re just not in Kansas anymore Toto. Now listen up. This is what’s happening on your side of the field. These guys that you’ve been wandering around town with, are any of them Al Rashid’s?”
“Not that I’ve been told.”
“Okay, one of them may be married to an Al Rashid. That’s probably the only connection to Lebanon. The Al Rashids are Saudis. That family has wealth and power at all levels. If by some miracle you do get to see the patriarch, he’s not going to be impressed by a policeman.
Their personal family resources are better than that. You have to offer something that he can’t get, like the fact that both the Canadian and European secret police are tracking these dogs down. And when we get them, they’ll never see the light of day again as long as they live, which might not be long at all. And for God’s sake leave your gun and badge at the hotel. Not in your room, though, in the hotel lockup.
When you meet with this guy you’re set to see today, change your tactic. Take a hard stance based on th
e fact that the old man would be mightily pissed if he found out that you had come to give him exactly what he wants most right now, and they messed it up by screwing you around. And they will. For days, weeks, whatever it takes to make you go away, minus all your hard currency. You mean nothing to them, and that’s dangerous. You have to change their perspective on who you are, and the power that you wield. If you can do that, then you’ll find out very quickly that Hamad Al Rashid is probably in Riyadh, or possibly Dhahran. If you check your handy Perley’s guide to the Middle East, you’ll find that both of those towns are in Saudi Arabia, not Lebanon.
Don’t pay anyone else a dime to get through to him either. That’s not the way it works. It’s respect for the head of his branch of the family that will make the connection. But it’s been months since the second bank job, and at this point the only reason Hamad would be in Beirut would be to visit with the children and the daughter, assuming she stayed in Lebanon, which I seriously doubt. At the death of her husband, she would have been picked up with the children, by clan members acting on orders from Hamad, and brought home to Saudi Arabia, most likely Riyadh.”
“It seems like I should have gone over this with you before I started. I guess I made a mistake in judgement there.” That was about as close as George would get to saying he was wrong, or sorry. I took it at face value.
“Apology accepted, under one condition.”
“Okay then. What’s the condition?”
“You have your cell phone with you, I would imagine. If not, get one before going anywhere today. Then call me when you find out if Hamad Al Rashid is in Beirut, the minute you find out. On the off chance that he is, and you get a meeting, let me know, and I’ll set up some verification to back up your claim to have international governmental resources at your disposal. If he’s not in town, which is more likely, try to get him on the telephone. If and when you do, you’ll have to convince him that you’re worth talking to. Are you taking all of this in?”
“Yes. That’s it?”
“Not quite.”
“Naturally.”
“If you actually get to talk with Al Rashid, even if it’s by telephone, use this name I’m going to give you as a reference. Got a pen?”
“Yup.”
“Walker of Sands, Seeker of Truths.”
“Done.” The one thing I’ve always liked about George is that he never questions me when I’m being serious.
“Good, then I’ll expect to hear from you today. Don’t make me have to come looking for you in that jewel of confusion by the sea.”
“You’ll hear as soon as I get anything, and I’ll watch my back, don’t worry.”
“Whoa! You’re not listening to me George. I said call me. Not when you have it sussed, I mean call today, and hire bodyguards with connections to the Rashids’. Pay them a lot. Five hundred each, per day, in U.S. dollars. Get three. The hotel manager will be of help with all of this. If you have any trouble getting set up, you’re going to call me while you’re talking to him, and put me on the line.
Once you get the bodyguards, don’t even think of going out for lunch without them. That’s the way it works. If you screw up on any of this, you’ll end up being another statistic in a town where they stopped taking stats years ago. Got it?” As the conversation had progressed I’d become more aggressive in my speech, and George seemed to be taken aback by it all. There was a pause that had nothing to do with the line delay.
“Okay Jeff, get a grip, man. This isn’t the town you remember anymore. It’s changed an awful lot since your days out here.”
“That’s your first mistake, and if you don’t wake up and smell the gunfire, you won’t come back from Beirut. The people there are armed and dangerous. That town is populated by families that are genuinely able to field a ten-man team that could level East L.A. without breaking into a sweat. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
Again, there was a long pause. Finally, George answered me properly. “I think so, Jeff. I didn’t realize it was still like that, I really didn’t. I’m sorry, I owe you an apology. It just looks so… recovered, I guess is the word I’m looking for.”
“It is recovered, and a lot safer than it’s been for decades. That should give you some idea of how bad it was during the peak of the Troubles. Just do things the way I’m telling you to, and you should be alright. Don’t take a single chance, pal, because over there you don’t get a second one.”
This time the only delay was from the phone line routing. “Okay Jeff. I get it. You’ll hear from me today, either way.”
“Good, I’ll expect your call within the next twelve hours.”
At that stage, we didn’t really have any more to discuss, so we cut the connection.
I checked my watch. Time to get sleeping beauty out of bed, so I went to wake her.
She was in one of those positions you see only in the movies, or at those magic moments in your life that stick with you. She’d been rolling about in the bed and in the process had wrapped herself in the sheet, but haphazardly, and the short nightshirt had ridden high on one thigh where the sheet hadn’t managed to get to. The resultant view was more than I felt like dealing with, but kid gloves, that’s what I’d promised, and that’s what I’d use. As I sat on the bed next to her I pulled the sheet over her exposed derriere before she woke up.
“Therese, it’s morning kid. Time to hit the bricks.” I gently laid my hand on her shoulder while I spoke. She had her face buried in the pillow, so her answer was somewhat muffled, but I got the gist of it.
“Hmmff?”
Then the slow easy breathing resumed. Right back to dreamland. Actually, I don’t know how she was breathing at all, with her face mashed into the pillow like that, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that everyone on the planet has their preferred sleeping habits. Mostly they’re about as changeable as their personality.
When you marry the woman of your dreams, you pay your money and you take your chances. I’d met beautiful women before that I’d spend all of my waking hours with in a flash, but after one sleep-over, I’d be looking for the first boat out of port before sundown. Not so with Therese. She looked, if anything, even more beautiful asleep in a mussed-up bed with no makeup, than when she was up and around.
Yet again, I pitied the early demise of John Dawson. My original involvement was strictly related to missing documents for a multi-million-dollar deal that was supposedly signed, sealed and about to be delivered. The scope had widened with every passing hour until I’d been simply Shanghaied. Requisitioned, according to the appropriate paperwork. That’s the problem with being a commissioned officer with ‘Special Skills’. They, the Government, can always call you up and convince or coerce you that this one’s a special mission that just can’t be pulled off without you. Right.
I tried a small shake of her shoulder this time, accompanied by a firmer rendering of my previous ‘wake-up’ line. This time she slowly rolled over and blinked a few times, focusing on me until it registered. I could see it all come back to her as her face lost the child-like look of a sleepy woman-girl to be replaced by the face of a woman with a large cross to bear. I felt like the guy in the black hat. She pushed herself up off the pillows and leaned on her elbows glancing at her watch, which was one of the few things she still had on. The confusion lasted only for a moment, until the realization that she was in a different country, and time zone, and her watch was still running on good old daylight savings time, Eastern Canada version.
“It’s about 6:30 AM, not quite, but close enough. We have to meet the gang for breakfast downstairs in an hour. You have your own en-suite five piece here, including a small Jacuzzi-style hot tub. I wanted to give you as much time as I could in dreamland, but now it’s time to get to work. I’ll be in the sitting room when you’re ready. By the way, I ordered some fresh juices and croissants as well as coffee and tea. I don’t know your habits yet, so… well, anyway, if you need me you know where I am.” I r
eceived a small smile for my efforts, and she laid her hand on top of mine for a moment. The one that was still on her shoulder. There was a funny little feeling that passed between us, encompassing last night as well as this morning. Funny, but good, comfortable. Like friends.
“Merci, Jeffry. I will be out in a few moments only.”
I smiled back at her and rising from the bed, left her to it. She was as good as her word, coming out in twenty minutes, dressed and ready for the day. Jeans, short leather boots, a big white wool sweater, and a blue silk scarf as light as the wind. I hadn’t heard a blow dryer, but her hair looked dry and styled. Not bad for twenty minutes. Hell, I’d be hard pressed to get myself together in twenty minutes, and I don’t think the thought of blow drying my hair has ever honestly crossed my mind. I just brush it back and let it dry at its own pace.
The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel Page 31